Welcome To My Life
by Mrs.McGinty08
Summary: R was right, his name did start with an R. His name was Ryan. Follow the events of Ryan's last day of humanity.
1. Get Up!

"Ryan! Get up, you're going to be late for your interview!" my mom called urgently.

"Ugh" I groaned, rolling over and pulling the covers over my head.

Work really sucks. I mean, I haven't even gotten the job yet and they're already forcing me to wake up early. And I thought school was bad!

"Ten more minutes mom…" I called, still half asleep, not wanting to leave the comfort of my nice warm bed.

"That's it!" I heard her exclaim before barging into my room and whipping the blanket off of me. How rude.

"Hey! What was that for?" I asked, more than a little miffed at the loss of warmth.

"I've been calling you for twenty minutes! Your interview starts in ten minutes! Your father may let you lounge around the house all day but I'm putting my foot down! You're not a baby anymore Ryan, you're twenty years old! It's time for you to get a job like the rest of us." Mom exclaimed, visibly upset.

This ultimatum was nothing new, as I heard it at least five times a day. As a matter of fact, I have it almost memorized. I think that mom has this idea that if she keeps saying it, I will finally get fed up with hearing it and do something about it. But she couldn't be more wrong.

"Fine. Get out of my room!" I huffed, wanting to go back to bed. It was nine o clock in the morning for crying out loud! What boss willingly wakes up at this ridiculous hour and makes their employees- or more fitting for my case, possible employees- suffer?

"I'm not leaving this room until you're on your feet" She asserted, hands on her hips.

If there was something I hated more than waking up before noon, it was getting into

fights before noon, especially fights with my mother. Her incessant nagging would be enough to make any sane person go crazy.

"I'm up, I'm up" I stated, standing up and walking towards my closet.

She gave me one last searing, soul-searching gaze before leaving my room, throwing a quick "Wear something nice" over her shoulder as she went.

Muttering "Women" under my breath, I shut the door behind her and began to get dressed. This day could not get any worse and it hadn't even started yet.


	2. Ready or Not!

I looked in the mirror, running a hand through my black hair and threw on my favourite red hoodie after giving it the sniff test, before walking out of my room and into the kitchen. I stretched and let out a big yawn wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, wishing that I could go back to bed.

"What on earth are you wearing?!" Mom questioned, staring at my clothes like I was wearing the most repulsive thing she had ever seen.

"Clothes" I retorted, looking at her like she was out of her mind.

"Very funny. This is too casual to wear to an interview. You don't want to be jobless forever, do you?" she asked, the question and its implications affecting her more than me as per usual.

I shrugged. Personally, I didn't care if I got a job or not. I would be quite content to stay here for the rest of my life, lazing around and doing whatever I pleased, whenever I pleased, but if mom's face was any indication I began to realize that that wasn't an option.

"No" I lied, hanging my head with my best defeated expression. After living with her for 20 years I had turned into quite the actor.

"Alright then. Unfortunately you have five minutes until your interview, so it's going to have to do" She concluded, grabbing the keys and making her way to the garage.

I followed her wearily and got in the car. Why this whole job business was so

important was beyond me. I mean, the world isn't going to end if I don't get a job. I think she needs to sort out her priorities. She should really relax more.

The ride was silent, awkward. I honestly considered throwing the door open and doing a tuck and roll out of the car, but with my luck I die or something, and I didn't want to die today. I opted for the less painful route and took my iPod out of my pocket, put my headphones in, and pushed play, the music blaring to life. They say that everyone has a 'thing', something they're passionate about. Well, mine's music. In all honesty, I don't think I could go a day without it.

Most people, according to my experience, liked music because it had a good beat or just because they liked it. I on the other hand like music because of the lyrics. In my opinion, you can't truly feel a song until you know what it's trying to say. That being said however, I am a purist and prefer whatever mode of playback will give the music the best sound. I mean, what's the point in great voices, lyrics, riffs, and melodies if they're muffled?

Mom pulled into the parking lot and parked the car, turning to me with a smile. She wished me luck and before I knew it I was standing at the door of a large, menacing, building with a sign reading 'Community Airport' on it. I took a deep breath and walked in, unsure of what was ahead.


	3. Where Did All The Good Jobs Go?

{Collaboration chapter with my friend}

It was equally as big on the inside and was spacious, seemingly stretching on as far as the eye could see. Unfortunately, the sheer size of the place only made me more nervous. The place was crawling. I looked around at all the people, bustling around, checking their luggage in, and finalizing their travel details. A million worst case scenarios ran through my head as I approached the front desk, the next one always worse than the one before.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" A chubby- yet peppy, receptionist asked, smiling.

"I have an interview at ten thirty" I replied, nervously.

"Oh, you must be Ryan! We've been expecting you" She enthused, motioning for me to follow her. How she could be so enthusiastic at this hour was beyond me.

I followed her into an office where she instructed me to sit down. She told me that the interviewer would be in shortly and that I should make myself comfortable. So I sat in one of the upholstered chairs and laid back, head against the wall, wishing that I could just get this over with. Working has never been my thing, I'm more of an observer. I observe other people while they work.

I closed my eyes for a minute, trying to calm my nerves, and as I did so, I heard someone enter the room and sit down. Startled, I sat up straight- or as straight as I was capable of sitting- and turned to face the person. It was a petite young woman in a white blouse, her curly brown hair in a bun. She must have been around twenty five, I guessed. She eyed my attire disapprovingly and went on to introduce herself.

"Hello, I'm Marie. I'll be interviewing you today" She introduced, reaching for my hand and giving it a firm shake, which I returned.

"Nice to meet you Marie. I'm Ryan" I greeted, introducing myself.

"So it says here you applied to be a janitor" Marie stated, skimming over my application.

Yes, you heard correctly. My mother had convinced me to apply for janitorial work. But to be honest, I can't really blame her. I don't exactly have the credentials for any of the other jobs here. Heck, I barely have the credentials for this job.

"Yes I did" I replied. I couldn't sit still, I want a job that will allow me to sleep all day and play video games during breaks.

"How do you plan on doing that?" She asked looking at me, her hand within reach of the call button. Shit. That was out loud. I knew I was one word away from having security called on me.

I reminded myself that I had to be careful of speaking out loud before thinking.

"Oh! Wh...What I meant to say was yes, I love cleaning! it's next to godliness you know" I then proceeded to tell her of my many cleaning jobs for people other than my family. In other words, I lied.

She looked me over once again, and then asked the question I had been avoiding thinking about.

"You know this job involves working weekends, right?" She asked, curiously. There, she said it.

"I was kind of hoping this one wouldn't…" I mumbled under my breath. She looked at me with the look my mother always uses with me. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Let's see if I have got this straight. You don't want to work during the day, and you want access to a computer? I don't really think you are right for this position" She replied, a mix of amazement and disgust. I couldn't really blame her for being disgusted and I felt bad that she had to be up at ten thirty in the morning to give me this lousy interview. It's all mom's fault, as usual.

"Thanks anyway" I muttered, standing up and leaving the interview room. What a crappy morning.


	4. Wandering

I moped past the chubby receptionist who was even peppier than before. I didn't think that was humanly possible, but boy was I wrong. I couldn't wait to go home and go back to bed. Maybe if I was lucky, I'd wake up and forget this even happened. But the likelihood of that happening was slim to none, since I know for a fact that mom will never let me live this down.

Let's get real here for a minute. I have never been good with words. While most kids dreaded subjects like Math and Science in school, I dreaded English. At least Math and Science follow a pattern of logic and there's only one answer for everything. English always confused me to no end, because there are too many different words that mean the exact same thing. You try truly expressing yourself when you're confined to rules. It's near impossible at times.

People don't understand me. I'm not an idiot. They always look at me like I have literacy issues when in fact, I'm communicating just fine. I believe there are two different ways of communicating; with your head, and with your heart. I may not know which words to use and when to use them, but I know how to get my point across when it truly counts.

I wandered through the airport. I still had an hour before mom was supposed to pick me up from my interview, and I wanted to prolong the disappointed shake of the head I knew I would receive for as long as possible. There were less people in this half of the airport.

'These flights must have taken off already' I reasoned, taking in every nook and crevice of the place.

I was so lost in my thoughts that if it wasn't for the physical jolt, I wouldn't have registered colliding with something. I looked down, seeing a pair of shoes in front of me. Okay…someone.

"Sorry" I mumbled.

I stood there, waiting for the person to reply and not looking up, afraid to meet their eyes. After I received no reply, I began to get frustrated. Who does this person think they are! I just said I'm sorry! The very least they could do is acknowledge my apology!

I looked up and was met with one of the janitors. He looked terrible. He was sickly pale, with dark rings around his eyes.

"You ok, man?" I asked, my anger dwindling into concern. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't happy with his lack of courtesy but this guy looked like he'd had better days.

The janitor groaned in response. Man, this guy must be in worse shape than I thought.

"You don't look so good. You should go to the doctor" I offered.

And then he did something I wasn't expecting. He bit me!


	5. Infection

"What the heck are you doing?! What's wrong with you?!" I exclaimed, trying to break free. He held me by the shoulder, biting my arm hungrily. He was stronger than he looked, his hold on me firm.

He groaned in response, sinking his teeth deeper into my arm, drawing blood. I began to feel a little light headed and realized that struggling was futile. In my newly weakened state, nothing I did would be enough to save me now and this half of the airport was as good as dead.

You know how they say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It's true. I could feel the life being sucked out of me, liquid life draining out of me and into the mouth of my assailant. I remembered my childhood- a time I had tried really hard to forget, due to all the bullying I had endured as a result of a stutter that try as I might, I couldn't lose. I remembered being grateful when I was finally able to conquer it for good. I remembered my first and only girlfriend Anna, and how she had broken my heart into a million pieces when she just stopped talking to me one day, leaving me to wonder what I had done to deserve such pain. And I remembered the look of absolute helplessness my mother had had when my father walked out on us.

I felt every emotion possible until I suddenly collapsed to the ground. I barely recalled the janitor staring down at me, teeth bared. This was it. I was done for. I saw the teeth come closer and closer and closed my eyes tightly. I heard someone shout angrily, followed by a blood curdling scream. It was only then that I was willing to open my eyes. I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw being a woman sprawled out on the floor, her skull ripped open, and the janitor eating his brains.

I was mortified and repulsed. I wanted to throw up but for some reason, part of me wanted a taste. Before I had a chance to act on these impulses however, I began seizing, the virus infecting my every vein and limb. I then began to see things, things that I assured myself couldn't be real. Not that that made me feel any better, I was still seeing things. I saw my mom, eyes a steely grey, blood around her mouth, and sickly pale looking. As if that wasn't terrifying enough, she was hunched over someone. She moved to the side, enough that I was now able to see her victim. It was my father! I wanted to run, like, REALLY wanted to run, but no matter how hard I willed my feet to move, they disobeyed me, staying firmly planted on the spot. What was happening to me?! If this was death, I wanted to live, and if this was life, I wanted to die. I just wanted this to stop. All I remember seeing is black as my eyes closed, for what I thought was the final time. This is the end. I'm dying.

I didn't know whether to be grateful or upset when they opened again a few minutes later.

"Find somebody!" A voice inside my head urged. Great! Now I'm hearing voices…and they sound like my mother! If I had a dollar for every time my mom told me to find a girl, I'd be able to move out and buy a house of my own.

I looked around, the only people in my line of vision being the janitor and the poor girl he was eating.

Man, this is SO messed up. I thought to myself. Is this really what the world's coming to?


End file.
